


Blind

by gwyllgi



Series: Fenris Unplugged [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke's love life is none of Fenris's concern.  <i>"So," Anders drawled as he settled at his usual spot in Varric's rooms, "how long do you suppose Hawke has been fucking the knight-captain?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoAsakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/gifts).



> Part of Fenris's alphabet series. Anders/Fenris if you're wearing slash goggles, but it's not necessary to take it that way.

"So," Anders drawled as he settled at his usual spot in Varric's rooms, "how long do you suppose Hawke has been fucking the knight-captain?"

It was just as well that none of the others had yet arrived, as they would have been well-doused by the ale that Fenris spewed. He coughed painfully to clear his ale-infused lungs, finally managing a glare at Anders that wasn't watery. "Who Hawke is or is not _fucking_ is none of my concern."

"Mm." 

Not sure if the hum was agreement or argument, Fenris scowled. "For that matter, how is it yours?"

Anders tugged lightly at an ear lobe as he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, gazing somewhere over Fenris's shoulder. "Well, I do have a vested interest in not drawing the knight-captain's attention. If he's hanging around Hawke, he's far too close for my liking." He shifted his eyes to meet Fenris's as a positively evil grin curled the corners of his mouth. "Are you certain it's none of your concern? Aren't you jealous, even a little?"

"Jealous?" Fenris narrowed his eyes to combat their reflexive widening in surprise. "Why would I be jealous?"

Anders's grin went from evil to absolutely demonic. "I'd thought you had a thing." He waved his hand between them, leaning forward slightly as he lowered his voice into something warm, intimate. "All that flirting, all that sexual tension. I was certain you two were, hm, more than friends, you might say."

Fenris rose so quickly that his thighs rammed into the table, the sudden pain making him scowl again. "I have no reason to be jealous, and I've had quite enough of this. Good _night_ , mage."

He'd barely made it ten steps outside of the tavern before he heard the familiar tread hurrying behind him, though, to his credit, Anders did refrain from grabbing Fenris's arm. "I thought we were done," he snarled, refusing to otherwise acknowledge the other man.

"You _are_ jealous." Anders's tone held none of the mocking Fenris had expected, instead possessing something close to understanding. "Don't take it personally--Hawke would flirt with a stump." His hand hovered somewhere near Fenris's elbow, just above the edge of his gauntlets, and, while he didn't make contact, Fenris could feel the _presence_ of his fingers tingling against his skin.

"Are you saying that I'm the romantic equivalent of a stump?" He tried to summon anger, but he was suddenly tired, so tired. "There is nothing between myself and Hawke. He is my friend, nothing more."

Anders was remarkably silent for a long moment before the effort to remain so apparently became too great. "So, how long _do_ you suppose Hawke has been fucking the knight-captain?"

Despite himself, Fenris snorted a laugh, twisting his head away from Anders in the hopes that the mage would not realize it was amusement, rather than disdain, that prompted the sound.

No such luck. "There, I knew you had it in you. Shall we go back inside, then?"

Fenris looked down at the hand Anders had extended to him. From somewhere unknown, the urge rose to take it, only to be ruthlessly squashed down. Anders was a mage, an _abomination_ , everything that Fenris hated. The fact that he had to remind himself of this told him that he was allowing himself to get too comfortable, far too comfortable. "Very well," he conceded, brushing roughly past Anders's hand, "but only because I promised Varric a round of Wicked Grace tonight."

"Of course."


End file.
